Glory Ho

I’ve always been what you might call a nationalist of sorts. I like rooting for the home team. I am a yeller, a jumper, a national anthem saluter. Little League Baseball, rugby matches in sub-zero temps, a dog competition at the Stock Show, it doesn’t make a difference. If it’s competition, I’m in. The dance of numbered shirts, a referee’s stripes and the comfort of my own jeans and sweatshirt mix as smoothly as brownie batter with just as sweet of a result. I have almost always, therefore, rooted for the American team, regardless of our current sport. My patriotism is an unquestionable certainty. I’m fond of Lee Greenwood. I have always been proud to be an American. Our work ethic, optimistic attitude, determination and patriotism seem unmatched compared with other countries I’ve visited. I feel you should be proud of yourself, your family and your accomplishments, too, despite their failings. Self-deprecation in moderation. I walk along a line that’s painted by a thoughtful mixture of pride and awareness. I’m eager to explore new continents and cultures, but I am always proud to be a straight-teethed, smiling, American.

Over the last five years, as the United States’ image has suffered, I’ve remained a loyal supporter. While I didn’t agree with every policy, and based on primarily women’s and minority issues, did not vote for our current president, I maintained a basic trust in our government’s foreign policy. I realized that while idealists serve a purpose to tip the boat and keep awareness high, their blinders were too much for me and their lack of perspective was illogical. While I fought for reproductive rights, rallied, phone-banked, fundraised and did my best to encourage positive policies for women’s health, I didn’t always choose to hang out with my Planned Parenthood cohorts. Their firm belief in whatever Michael Moore said inched me more and more toward the center. Too, I realized that debates where one simply confirms what ones already knows are seldom learning experiences. I chose to understand that the government, like me, like you, like companies, like organizations, makes mistakes. That no one was evil, but simply doing what they thought was best. And that change would come, as it always does. Our system guaranteed it. I strived to remember, as Winston Churchill said: “Democracy is the worst form of government except all those others that have been tried from time to time.”

I also refused to succumb to the cynicism that’s become so trendy today. Everyone has the right to not only have an opinion but to express it (thanks to our democracy, by the way), but throwing your own patriotism out with the trash isn’t respectable. As millions of people risk their life to work minimum wage in the land of the free, there are plenty of American complainers (none of them heading for the border) who don’t realize just how good we have it. It’s a little like football. Being a fair-weather fan is easy. Remaining a dissenting, and maybe disappointed, but patient supporter is hard. Ask any Buffallo Bills fan. And you can say, “but this is politics, not a stupid football game” and you’d be right, but give me a break, I’m not a political analyst, I’m a Peace Corps Volunteer. And don’t call football stupid.

But I have digressed. Quite a bit actually.

Being abroad during such a difficult time for America, even in a relatively forgettable country in the global scene, has introduced a new feeling. Po princip, most people either don’t care or don’t want to navigate a political conversation. We are rarely harassed about Iraq or Bush. We try to be tolerant and encourage cultural exchange. But it’s in the presence of non-American expats where I occasionally (I can only think of three times, so really, occasionally) feel a subtle chill. Nothing is said. In fact, it may be the split-second of silence that I notice. A spark of condescension from the French woman’s eyes, the flat response from a German, a glance downward from a Dane. A momentary, unspoken wave of sympathy and discomfort sails through the air, like a piece of paper. Or is it only indifference? Or the lack of response? I’m not sure. But it’s there.

Is it me? Am I self-conscious about America? Valid point, but no, that’s not it. It’s different now and there are reasons.

Perhaps this time as the underdog has been good for us as a country. Perhaps it has opened the eyes of arrogant Americans. The trouble with always being first is that you don’t notice those behind you, right?

But my pride and patriotism won’t let shame creep in. Even when Michael and I were advised by a fellow traveler to claim we were Canadian, if, say, we faced a dangerous Middle East situation during our upcoming world travel, we both knew that wasn’t an option for us (okay I considered it for a minute or two). We’ll simply have to trust that despite any misgivings or momentary silences, we’ll be viewed as individuals. Not representatives of a government.

It’s been said (by someone. . .) that Peace Corps volunteers often return to the United States more patriotic than when they left. Makes sense. After living in a developing country, people are typically more appreciative of the comforts and freedoms back home. I can say, a year in, we’re no exception. But in the midst of the current affairs, I’ve obviously gained another perspective, too. Perhaps the perfect medicine following the less-than-ideal diplomatic conditions we have created. And certainly, a wedge of humble pie, though difficult to swallow, is good for anyone’s system.